When a “child” isn’t a child

September 20, 2018

Cody Wilson, of 3D-printed gun fame, has been targeted by the State for “sexual assault on a child”. This is a lie.

If it’s consensual, it isn’t “assault”. If it’s a business deal– a trade– it is mutually consensual. He is said to have paid her for sex; that makes it a trade.

But then we get to the part that trips up even supposed liberty-lovers: that she is claimed to be a child.

The girl in question is said to be 16 years old. Very few 16 year-olds are still a child. I doubt very strongly this girl is one of those rare exceptions.

Biologically, childhood ends at puberty; very few people are still biological children at 16 years of age. Mentally it ends somewhat later– some people never mature– but it would be a rare person who is still a mental child at 16.

That doesn’t mean the person who is no longer a child is an adult.

To pretend a person is either a child or an adult is dishonest. No, adolescents are not adults, but neither are they children. They shouldn’t be treated as children, nor considered children.

Biologically, adulthood is reached at about 25 years of age, when the wisdom teeth mature and the prefrontal cortex of the brain finishes developing. The brain development also indicates mental adulthood, and (hopefully) emotional and psychological adulthood. Thank goodness the puritans of the State haven’t (generally) insisted on biological adulthood before considering a person to be an adult.

So, maybe the 16 year-old in question wasn’t an adult, but she almost certainly wasn’t a child, either.

It is said she was a prostitute, and like it or not, that’s going to be the end of mental and emotional childhood no matter the biological reality. This is one reason child prostitution (and child sexual abuse of other kinds) is so horrific– it forces the end of emotional childhood much too early.

I know people want a clear line in the sand, and this causes them to buy into the State’s convenient lie that under 18 equals “child”. That’s no excuse; it is intellectual and ethical laziness.

If Cody Wilson did what he is accused of, it wasn’t smart. But neither was it “assault” or “sex with a child”, and it shouldn’t be a crime.

This is purely a politically motivated charge, and was most likely a set-up from the beginning. Stop supporting Wilson if you feel you must, but don’t turn on him like the true perverts of the State want you to.

This blog is my job.
YOU get to decide if I get paid.


Stupid Against-ocrats

September 20, 2018


Being against guns is as stupid as being against candles.

Both are tools.

Both are mostly used for good (in non-political hands).

Both are useful and can save lives.

Both can kill if misused.

But being “against” either one is stupid.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

“Scared” yet?

September 19, 2018

I’ve been accused from time to time of using “scare quotes” around certain words; words which I feel are generally misused or are nonsense. Like “taxation”, “good” cops, “immigration”, or “common good”.

But those quotation marks are not there to scare you; they are there to illustrate my sarcasm. They aren’t “scare quotes”, they are sarcastiquotes.

The very name “scare quotes” is dishonest and biased– an attempt to shame writers into going easy with the truth. Not gonna happen. I’m going to continue to use sarcastiquotes to illustrate the dishonesty of others.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

Actions matter more than identity

September 19, 2018

(My Eastern New Mexico News column for September 19, 2018)

Instead of worrying about who someone is, it seems smarter to focus on what they do. Anything other than their actions is none of your business and can’t harm you, and not many of their actions are your business, either.

The color of someone’s skin isn’t my concern, nor is the language they speak. Who you love is between you and those you love, and your religious beliefs don’t involve me.

I’m not worried about where someone was born or what government permission slips they may lack…read the rest

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You are being watched

September 18, 2018

Don’t assume the cops don’t know things about you just because you are quiet and peaceable.

About 19 years ago, around half-past dusk, in an average town in a nearby state, I was riding in the passenger seat while my wife-at-the-time drove. Pulling a particularly blatant act of poor driving in the middle of town, she made a left turn and cut off an approaching coproach. She seemed completely oblivious when I mentioned this error. Unsurprisingly, the gangster in question made a turn, followed, and stopped her.

As he did the “your papers, please” shakedown on her, he bent over to get a better look at her passenger– me. He shined his flashlight in my face for a moment and uttered words that still echo in my mind to this day. He said “You’re that guy with all the guns.

I am not certain now if he actually added something to the effect of “we better keep an eye on you” or if my memory has added that in the years since. I feel it was implied, if not stated. I never said a word during the encounter.

I seriously doubt I had more guns than the average person in the area. I did usually open-carry around town, and I dressed “uniquely”, yet I had never been involved in any “incident” of any kind. I was quiet and reserved, and never really made waves. I did know people who were more outspoken, though. I didn’t yet spend my time writing anything more than the rare letter to the editor (2 or 3 over the years) and didn’t even have an email address, much less a computer. I hadn’t bought any guns since I had moved to town (as far as anyone in government knew, anyway). I was still months away from being surrounded by the police due to a lack of communication at the elementary school. Yet, he recognized me as “that guy with all the guns“.

Was he joking? Did he mistake me for someone else, as unlikely as that was? Did he know something about me that I still don’t know how he knew? Either way, it was a moment of paranoia made real for me.

How would this event have turned out in today’s “shoot first, ask questions if he survives” police state? Regardless of the intent behind the comment, it was just another brick in the wall that made me the delightful anarchist you see before you today.

(An edited re-run from September 2009)

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid. Or not…

Seeds on fertile soil

September 17, 2018


Sometimes… well, most of the time… advocating liberty seems like a losing battle.

Socialism, the politics of envy and theft, is getting more and more popular among the ignorami– almost no one notices the lies told to promote it.

Hatred of migrants is over-the-top, and those who don’t hate the migrants excuse horrible things done by a tiny few of them just because they feel that they can do no wrong since they are “victims” of one thing or another.

There are too many cops (one is too many) and they are growing more brutal, whiney, and entitled every day.

And the only “solution” people talk about for any of this is v*ting.

Some days it drains all my energy and makes me want to give up.

But, occasionally something turns that feeling around.

I’ve told a few select people about this already, but because of the personal nature of it I haven’t spread it around too much; I don’t want to violate anyone’s privacy. A couple of months ago, out of the blue, I got a nice private message on one of those Evil Socialist Media Platforms.

The writer doubted I would remember him (but I did). We’d had an online conversation about 14 years ago (I remember where I lived at the time, and that was a time of great turmoil in my living arrangements), only for a couple of days. He was a Republican and a Constitutionalist. I pointed out that Republican politicians didn’t obey the Constitution any better than the Democrat politicians, and that if that was what he really valued, he should probably be a Libertarian instead. Note that I don’t remember ever saying I thought the Constitution was a good thing, or that I was a Libertarian Party supporter (although I was closer to both of those positions 14 years ago). I was just pointing out something I thought would better fit him, personally. And I always love to see people abandon the DemoCRAPublicans for any reason.

But he didn’t seem to like it much. In fact, I felt like he really hated me. So I let it drop. I actually did think about him a few times over the years, feeling bad that he seemed to hate me. But I didn’t expect to ever hear from him again. So to say his message surprised me would be an understatement.

Because in his message he admitted that back then he thought I was a wacko, but he no longer did. He said he becomes more libertarian every day, and so does his wife. He still has a ways to go, but that’s one person I would have never dreamed would budge an inch.

So, you really never know who will hear you and let it fester in their mind until it sprouts and takes root. Keep scattering the seeds. Some WILL make a difference.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

The day cops surrounded me

September 16, 2018

(This is a re-run from August, 2008)

I used to give a presentation on the mountainmen of the Rocky Mountain fur trade each year for fourth grade at the local elementary school. I went to the classroom in full mountainman gear and talked about the history and the tools. I gave a few demonstrations to the kids, such as showing how to set a steel trap, start a fire without matches (both with flint and steel and with a bow drill; the kids’ favorite), and how to load a muzzleloading rifle.

For years, there was no problem. Then one year my wife-at-the-time needed to use the car during my presentation. “No problem“, I thought. I was mistaken.

That day I finished my program and went to the parking lot to wait for my wife to arrive. I sat down upon my blanket-roll near the school sign; holding my rifle upright at my side. After a few minutes I saw a cop car drive past slowly, but the cop inside didn’t look at me. I thought that was odd. He pulled into a driveway and turned around and parked. A minute or so later, another cop car pulled up a little ways from me and also parked along the street. He sat in his car for a minute before getting out and approaching me with his hand on his gun. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the other cop now approaching from behind. I don’t appreciate being stalked.

The cop greeted me politely and asked what I was doing. I explained the situation while the other cop stood off and watched. Then the principal of the school made an appearance. We explained what was going on to him, mentioning the teacher who had arranged my program. He knew nothing about it. A passing motorist had reported an armed person at the elementary school. Had I had mayhem in mind, the event would have been over by the time the cops arrived.

The teacher later apologized to me for forgetting to inform the principal of my presence. As it turned out, that was the last year I did the program since I moved away several months later. Amazingly, I survived to tell my tale, but for months townspeople would tell me they saw me sitting there between the two cops, looking rather unhappy.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

Encounters with bureaucRats, episode 2

September 15, 2018


The bureaucRatic mind– if it exists at all– is a small, rigid thing. It has no capacity to deal with things it doesn’t already understand.

My first car was an electric car– yes, I have always been an environmentalist. When I went to the DMV office to register the car, they had their standard questions about the vehicle. But the answers weren’t standard.

The DMV-bot asked the make and model. She’d never heard of either the make or model, but she dutifully typed that into the form. Then came the really confusing (to her) parts.

She asked how many cylinders the car had. Well, it was electric, so it didn’t have any cylinders. That’s not how electric motors work. I said “Zero”. The woman said she couldn’t put that- it had to be 4, 6, or 8 cylinders. I told her again it doesn’t have cylinders. She just looked skeptical and moved on.

Next question: What fuel, gasoline or diesel? I said– for the third or fourth time at this point– that it was electric. It didn’t use gas or diesel; it had no fuel tank. Only batteries and a charger. I plug it into an extension cord. Its fuel is electricity. That’s all.

I got blank stares from her. She typed, collected money, and when she handed me the registration I discovered I had probably the world’s only 4 cylinder electric car that ran on gas. I just laughed and showed it to people to illustrate the stupidity of those people.

And people wonder why I consider the bureaucRatic mind to most likely be a myth.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

Losers become cops

September 14, 2018

Just in case you ever wondered what kind of damaged person would ever want to become a cop, here is the answer in full color.

Pathetic “Jay Gee” is bullied (and not too terribly literate), so he (?) intends to grow up and turn the tables. How often do you think he’ll fear for his safety, because he just wants to make it home at the end of his shift?

Cops are losers, and losers become cops.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.

Encounters with bureaucRats

September 13, 2018

I recently told you about the town “tax” collector’s issues with me when I owned a shop. Here are a couple of earlier encounters which happened when I was only an employee.

This was at a pet store. Every year the State tried new ways to make it too hard to comply with all the rules in an attempt to shut down pet stores. One year the State decided that customers who bought certain critters, like parakeets and iguanas, needed to fill out a State form. We also had to give them a State-mandated sheet detailing all the ways the animal could infect them with horrible diseases. So I would hand the customer the sheet and tell them “This lists all the reasons the government doesn’t want you to have this pet. They require me to give it to you as a warning. You can read it or throw it away.” Then I’d pass them the State’s record book and say “The State says you have to fill out this form. I won’t know if you use your real name.” Most customers just laughed. I sold several pets to Mickey Mouse over the years.

Another time an inspector from the state department of agriculture came visiting. The shop owner wasn’t there at the time. I can’t remember now what his issue was, but he was trying to make me do something I wasn’t going to do, possibly because it wasn’t my store. (I wish I could remember what it was!) I just kept saying “no, I won’t”. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t bending over backward to comply. He made the mistake of saying he just had to enforce the law, and I wasn’t against laws, was I? That BalderdaSh didn’t improve my desire to cooperate with him. He ended up fleeing to the front steps, to talk to his boss on the phone, trying to figure out what to do about someone who wasn’t in awe of his “authority”. He ended up driving 200 miles back to the state capital, empty-handed. I guess he should have waited for my boss to be there.

I’m not rude. But if you try to threaten or push me using “laws” as your justification, it may not go according to plan.

This blog is my job.

YOU get to decide if I get paid.